


Release The Bats (Or At Least How It Should Have Been)

by slrandomperson



Category: Fall Out Boy, Release The Bats (Fall Out Boy)
Genre: Canon, Canon Compliant, Hey Chris! You were our only friend and I know this is belated but Patrick hates your guts, LOTS of mentions of gross things because Pete Wentz, M/M, Release The Bats, They dance a little and it's cute, Vague smut because I was uncomfortable writing it, sorry to dissapoint
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-28
Updated: 2018-06-28
Packaged: 2019-05-29 12:40:18
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,515
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15073349
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/slrandomperson/pseuds/slrandomperson
Summary: Patrick wants to tell Pete that this whole idea is stupid, that nobody's going to watch this dumb video, that nobody will buy a DVD for an EP called My Heart Will Always Be The B-Side To My Tongue, that he's going to get everyone killed. But Patrick can't bring himself to shatter Pete's dream of filming guys' asses and forcing them to drink piss, so instead he sits back and spends the days sulking. Patrick also wants to tell Pete that he's insanely jealous of Chris, but that sounds gay, so he doesn't. Can't risk spilling the truth.So instead, they release the bats.





	Release The Bats (Or At Least How It Should Have Been)

**Author's Note:**

> Before we get started, if you want to know what the hell I'm talking about, I'd suggest watching Release The Bats (all parts).
> 
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=mWM-E118Mqc
> 
> It's disgusting but they're fetuses and they're cute so who cares. Also I'm sorry that this is so short but I felt that this was a good place to end it, since they're still technically kids (ish) so they wouldn't jump the gun and get married or anything.
> 
> So as promised, here is the good thing that's been coming for far too long. Please enjoy!

"This is the dumbest idea you've ever had," Dirty said, rolling his eyes as Pete pulled on the wolf mask.

"That's kind of what I'm going for."

Turning the camera on, Dirty just made a noise of disapproval. "I mean lame-dumb, not cool-dumb."

"Whatever. Just shut your fuckin' mouth and tape this." It was 3:30 a.m., and Pete blasted the alarm on the megaphone as he ran into the other guys' room. Release The Bats was the most fun Pete had ever had.

Patrick gasped at the sudden feeling of a body on top of him. "Dude, what the fuck?" he groaned, trying to push Pete off.

Grinning, Pete just pulled up the mask and hissed at him.

"Get off of me." Pete giggled and rolled to the side as Patrick pulled the blankets over his head. "You can be really fucking annoying sometimes."

"But you love me, right?"

Patrick kicked him under the covers. "Fucking annoying."

"If you two are done being gay, I'm gonna' take the camera and go to sleep," Dirty said, slamming the door behind him.

"You're my favorite!" Pete called after him, but Dirty was gone.

Patrick pulled the blankets down just a little bit. "I thought I was your favorite."

"You are," Pete said, ruffling the blond hair on his best friend's head. "Which is why you're gonna let me sleep here tonight."

And so Pete found himself wide awake in Patrick's bed at four a.m., staring at the ceiling and thinking. "'Trick?" No reply. "'Trick?" Still nothing.

Pete cautiously took Patrick's hand, lacing their fingers together under the covers. He eventually turned on his side toward Patrick, pulling his hands up to rest under his head and bringing Patrick's with them. Pete couldn't explain it; he just felt more comfortable when he was with Patrick. The kid made him feel better, so why not indulge in that?

Of course, in the morning, Pete was awake before him. Patrick just had a bad habit of sleeping in late, which meant whatever crazy shit Pete had come up with would be tested on him first. Oh well.

"Patrick. Patrick, wake up." Pete shook his friend until his eyes fluttered open. "You awake, buddy?"

"I'm awake, I'm awake. What do you want?" Patrick groaned.

Pete whispered as softly as he could into Patrick's ear, "Come to the bathroom. I gotta' try something."

"That sounds really fucking weird."

"Not like that; you're gross. Now come on!"

When Patrick finally came to the bathroom (a little reluctantly), Pete had four bottles of hot sauce waiting. "I wanna' see how many it takes to puke."

Patrick stared at the bottles for a few seconds before giving Pete his signature defense mechanism, The Look. The Look was a mixture of _please-don't-make-me_ and disappointment, and he used it almost every day. Pete hoped that Patrick didn't know he could barely resist The Look; Patrick was just too damn cute for his own good.

"Please?" The Look didn't fade. "Do it for me, 'Trick. Please."

Finally, Patrick sighed and agreed. It seemed like that always worked. All Pete had to say was 'Do it for me' and he would.

Turns out it only takes two bottles to puke.

⊱⊰⊱⊰

Patrick hated all the other guys. Everyone that wasn't Joe, Pete or Andy was obnoxious and rude and stupid. They also seemed to think Pete was their best friend and they'd been there for him through everything. But they had it twisted: that was Patrick. At least, he thought so.

Who knew Pete better than anyone? Patrick. Who cared about him more than anyone? Patrick. Who did Pete call when he needed help? Patrick. Who was in love with him? Patrick.

Oh. Wait, sorry. He forgot to mention that.

Patrick had known for a while that he was in love. Hell, from the moment he laid eyes on the legendary Pete Wentz he knew he was screwed. It was stupid and definitely cliche but it was true. Patrick had heard stories about Pete, and while a lot of them were definitely lies, he still wondered about some. Like how he was still unsure after all these years about whether or not Pete had actually made a girl come three times before he did once, but it's not like Patrick was going to ask. Then, of course, there was the rumor that Pete had fucked guys before. That was the one Patrick wasmost curious about.

Patrick frowned as Pete laid sprawled out on top of him in the back of the van, shoving the camera in his face. It seemed like Pete never went anywhere or did anything without that stupid camera anymore.

Then Pete turned over so that there wasn't a cubic inch of Patrick's personal space left, and the younger boy knew he had to fight back. He started hitting Pete, who just laughed at his weak attempts. "You dick, you fucking hurt!" Pete tossed the camera aside and pinned Patrick's arms above his head, straddling his hips and smiling.

"You're so tiny."

"You're not much taller than me," Patrick spat.

Pete just laughed. "I'm stronger."

"Sure you are." Patrick kicked his legs and thrashed underneath Pete, but it appeared that he was stuck there.

It didn't help when Pete leaned in closer, resting his head on Patrick's shoulder. "If I let go will you hit me?"

 _Yes_ , Patrick thought, _I'll punch you until you fucking scream and then I'll knock the life out of your eyes you stupid motherfucker._ "No." He was in love; what did you expect?

Pete removed his arms and wrapped them around Patrick's waist, tangling their legs together and almost waking Andy up from all the commotion. "Thank you."

Patrick tangled one hand in Pete's hair and used the other to play with the hem of his shirt. He closed his eyes and imagined waking up like this; Pete Wentz hugging him and smiling up at him like he was in love, too. Except he wasn't smiling up at Patrick because his face was turned away, buried in Patrick's shoulder, and the younger man felt all warm and fuzzy inside. Pete was sending out some pretty mixed signals, but Patrick didn't care at the moment because damn Pete smelled good for not having showered in a week.

Pete sat up on his arms so he was hovering over Patrick and laced their fingers together excitedly. "Patrick Patrick Patrick." His heart was racing. "I have another idea."

"Do I have to be your guinea pig again?" Patrick groaned with an eye roll.

"Kind of," Pete said. "But I'm not gonna' tell you what it is just yet."

Patrick sighed. "Whatever, man. As long as I don't have to do it now, I'm down for anything."

"Anything?" Pete asked hopefully.

"No. I meant a lot of things."

Pete frowned. "Pity. I was hoping you'd do anything for me. Guess not, though..."

Patrick stared up at Pete and watched him bite his lip. He knew what Pete was doing, but just because he knew the trick doesn't mean he could escape it. "I _would_ do anything for you, okay? I just wouldn't do anything for this video."

"This is my video, so you'd technically be doing it for me. Plus, it wouldn't even be on the actual tape. We'd just talk about it."

After a few moments of hesitation, Patrick absentmindedly squeezed Pete's hand. "Fine. But only for you, you fucking dick."

Pete grinned. "Awesome. Now before I tell you what it is, just remember that you already agreed."

"Yeah, and I'm starting to regret it."

"You won't, I promise."

Patrick rolled his eyes. "Just tell me."

And as Pete sat there on top of Patrick, straddling his hips, holding his hand and leaning over him, he said, "We're gonna' get you laid."

⊱⊰⊱⊰

Patrick had talked Pete out of taking him to a strip club, and in turn had made Pete forget the idea altogether. His mind worked in strange ways, jumping from one idea to the next like he had suddenly picked up ADHD from someone.

But Patrick was beginning to feel anxious as Pete began proposing more and more ideas. He also started getting suspicious as the ideas just got more, for lack of a better term, gay. There was the clip Patrick had seen of Pete using a sausage to pretend he was fucking Dirty, then there were all the times Pete filmed guys' bare asses, the whole pepper-in-the-asshole incident, when Pete had chugged the water in the cup Juan's dick had been in, Pete sticking his hand down his pants that one time, and finally the worst one, which was definitely when Pete made one of the guys eat some kind of pie or something out of another dude's ass. A lot of ass things were happening.

Patrick's only comment about any of it was, "There are moments in your life that make you happy and make you like your life. There are moments in other people's lives that you witness that make you not like your life as much. I think that was one of them. I'm sorry, Juan," and that thought spawned after the pepper incident. At least Pete laughed about it.

Every night, the guys would all vault into the pool and Patrick would sit by the shed, not wanting to take part in this stupid video anymore. There was that one time when Pete asked Patrick to film him, and so he did, and when Pete was soaking wet and shirtless and pressed up next to Patrick to watch the video back, Patrick was glad that he had done it.

But on this one particular night, Patrick was so annoyed that he just sat in his room and watched them all having fun and being idiots through the window. Pretty soon, most of the guys had gone to bed, and it was just Pete, Chris and two other guys. Pete was chasing one of them around and trying to yank down his swim trunks, and that was when Patrick determined that Pete was just a pervert with a camera.

So he was gross, but Patrick loved him anyway.

"I shot Pete in the ass with a paintball gun yesterday and he got a fucking boner," Chris said one night when they were all eating pizza in Joe's room.

Patrick would have been incredibly embarrassed if it were him, but Pete grinned like he was proud. "Fuck yeah, that was awesome, dude. Anybody would have gotten a boner."

"Bullshit. I bet that's a you thing. Like maybe Patrick would too, but you're just fucking gay," Chris said, talking with his mouth full.

"Wait, that's a good idea. Patrick, did you hear that?"

Patrick looked up from his single, sad and soggy slice of pizza. "No way, man."

"Come on, you never want to do anything anymore! You're no fun," Pete whined, slamming his palms flat on the table Patrick was sitting at. He was the only one actually using the table, as the other guys were laying on the floor or the couch or something.

"It's because I'm not a lunatic."

Chris sneered. God, Patrick hated Chris. He was bad news from the very beginning. Grenade Jumper was Patrick's least favorite song ever made by anyone in the history of ever. "You're just a pussy."

Patrick stood, shoving a surprised Pete out of the way. "If being a pussy means not disturbing the neighborhood or the country or the entire fucking world with whatever dumb shit you're doing because of some crazy drug trip you're all on, then I'm gonna fucking leave." He was out the door before anyone could protest, as if they would. Patrick knew he was the buzz kill of the group, but he'd rather slaughter the buzz than let it hurt Pete, Andy or Joe.

"—him alone," was all that Patrick heard when the door opened down the hall behind him. He was already in front of the elevators, so he resolved to ignore whoever was coming after him. That didn't stop him from secretly hoping it was Pete.

It was Joe. "Patrick, come on, man. Come back."

"No! I'm fucking done."

"Listen, Pete's pretty upset. He's gotten into a lot of fights with Chris lately. I don't know what's happening. Just come back, okay? Chris is a dick, and we all know that. He doesn't matter."

Patrick was grateful for Joe's reassurance, but then the elevator dinged and he got in anyway. "I'm going for a walk. Bye."

⊱⊰⊱⊰

All Pete knew was that Patrick was mad and Chris was holding a box of fireworks. "Come on, dude. We're all gonna' set these off in the parking lot and I'm gonna' bike through 'em."

Raising an eyebrow skeptically, Pete stepped into the hallway. "Alright, sure. Let me just go wake up Patrick—"

"Dude, just leave him."

Pete frowned. "Patrick's our friend. Come on."

"He's a total wet blanket. There's no way he's coming," Chris said, glaring. "Plus, he hates me. No fuckin' way."

"He doesn't—"

"Every time I talk to you he gives me this death stare. It hurts my ego and we're going without him, okay? He needs his beauty sleep, anyway."

So now Pete was standing in the parking lot, watching as Kate and the guys set up the fireworks. Chris was standing beside him, nervously tapping his helmet. "They're trying to kill me."

"They better be," Pete deadpanned, and Chris laughed like it was a joke, but Pete was a little serious. Chris wasn't exactly his favorite person at the moment.

Of course, a guy came out of his room and yelled at them when the first fireworks were done, but as soon as he went back inside they shot off the last few. When Chris was yelling about how awesome that was, Pete was standing with his arms crossed, thinking about Patrick.

"He'd hate me if he knew what we're doing," Pete said when Chris was close enough to hear.

Chris immediately knew who he was talking about. "That's why he's not here, Pete. You want to do the honors?" He handed Pete the knight helmet and gestured to the ground.

After a bit of hesitation, Pete raised the helmet over his head and swung it down as hard as he could, denting the side. "Fucking safety. Fuck you."

For a while, Pete had forgotten they were on tour. But when they had to go to Japan, it all really started to sink in. Aside from the shows themselves, Pete saw Patrick maybe once. Chris was usually pulling him in the other direction.

He decided to film for Release The Bats, and as he ran from room to room, at least the ones that his friends were staying in, he shouted "Porn ninja!" and jumped on their beds in nothing but a thin, open robe. Most of the guys laughed and told him to go away.

Without even thinking about it, Pete just skipped Patrick's room.

"Honestly, man, what the fuck is wrong with your hair?" Chris asked when they were alone by the pool.

"I don't know. Lots of shit." Pete ran a hand through his short red hair, not remembering if the patches left black and undyed were a decision or a sucky dye job. Probably both.

Chris had become Pete's closest and most reliable friend over the last few weeks, since Patrick wasn't really in the picture anymore. Pete would feel bad, except Patrick was avoiding him too.

And then, back in America, it came time to shoot a video for Grand Theft Autumn. It was just Joe, Andy, Pete and Patrick in the van. Pete was, as usual, ignoring everyone and especially Patrick by sleeping. But then it happened.

Andy said that everything went in slow motion for him, and Joe said his life flashed before his eyes. But for Pete, it was like nothing happened at all. He was suddenly awake, _skrr, BANG, hisssss_ and then they were in the forest. Pete was the first one out of his seat, and he knew he was bleeding somewhere but with his body on autopilot like it was, he just grabbed Patrick and pulled him out of the right side of the van. He was hurt, too, and a lot of blood was running down the side of his face, and Pete blinked through the red dripping over his left eye. He stared at the van for a second, at the branches shooting through where the windows once were, and then he realized everyone was out. Everyone was alive.

Pete breathed a sigh of relief and flopped down in the snow as Patrick sat in shock. No one spoke as they all looked at each other with wide eyes. On automatic, Pete reached up and grabbed Patrick's shaking hand, rubbing circles on his skin. "Are you okay?"

"Who cares? What about you?" It was the first time they'd spoken in a month, and Pete could already feel Chris fading into oblivion.

Pete pulled Patrick into a hug. "I care. We're gonna' get you fixed up, I promise."

"You're the one who needs fixing," Patrick said, delicately taking Pete's bleeding hand and nodding to it. "Your face is sliced up, too."

"Am I still pretty?" Pete joked.

"Always will be."

⊱⊰⊱⊰

Patrick was sitting in the hospital waiting room after just having received stitches. Andy got a few, too, but he wasn't too badly cut up. Just a deep one on his shoulder. Patrick had been sliced on the temple, his arm, down the side of his left leg, and he had to get stitches in all of them. Pete just put bandages on his even worse gashes and called Patrick a pussy. He was turning into Chris.

"You know what, what the fuck is wrong with you? I'm sick of this bullshit and I'm sick of you acting like I'm a wimp because I went to the hospital after our fucking van crashed! Pete, I could have died! If I wasn't leaning over to tell Joe to shut up, I would have gotten my head sliced off. I could have _died_. So I went to the fucking hospital."

Pete's eyes were glossy. In all the years that Patrick had known him, the years that he had a reputation for being 'emotional,' he had never seen Pete cry. He didn't like it. "I'm sorry, I didn't...I didn't know. I was asleep. Fuck, Patrick, I'm so glad that you're alive. I'd kill myself if I didn't have you."

"No no no, don't say that. Please." Patrick pulled him into a hug. Pete tangled his hands into Patrick's hair. "I don't want you to feel like that. You don't need me."

"I do. When I met you, it was like...You know in the Wizard of Oz, when it goes from black and white to color?"

Patrick hugged him tighter. "I love you, Pete."

"I love you too."

The words hurt Patrick more than he thought they would. He wished and wished and wished that Pete meant them the way he did, but the fact of the matter was that he just didn't. And that wasn't Patrick being all cute and self deprecating and in-denial; it was simply fact.

Pete stepped back a little, arms still around Patrick's waist. His eyes were flicking back and forth between Patrick's as if searching for something. "Pat?"

"Don't call me that, and what?"

"Do you know how to dance?"

Patrick raised an eyebrow. "Um..."

"Like, slow dance. Ballroom dancing, whatever." Pete's smile was small, but it was there and it was sincere.

"I don't know, I guess I do?"

Smile widening, Pete took one of Patrick's hands and guided the other to his shoulder. He rested his own hand on Patrick's waist, causing a noise of complaint from the younger man. "Why do I have to be the girl?"

"Because you're shorter and you whine like one."

Patrick frowned. "Girls don't whine."

"Some of them do."

"Boys do, too."

"Boys like you?" That made Patrick shut up, only earning a triumphant grin from Pete.

Patrick hummed a tune by The Killers or The Police or somebody as Pete showed him where to step and how to move. "Feet like that, yeah; no, hold my hand you fucking idiot; look at me and it'll work better; eyes, Patrick, not my fantastic hair."

"Yeah, well, maybe if you weren't so goddamn bad at teaching me, then I wouldn't have to look down." Pete stopped, pulling Patrick so that he would stop too, but that just made them press up against each other. The look in Pete's eyes was intense. "What?"

Pete blinked. His movements were so fast that Patrick could barely register what happened before Pete pecked him on the lips, short and sweet and oddly adorable, and then someone was knocking at the hotel room's door. Pete dropped Patrick's hands and stepped into the hall, and he didn't come back for the rest of the day.

⊱⊰⊱⊰

They never talked about it. Pete was glad, because he didn't really know what he was doing or why he did it. All he knew was that Patrick's lips were in front of him and he wanted to stick his tongue between them, and then suddenly he was pulling away (without having gotten to stick his tongue between those perfect lips; what a shame).

But then it was one in the morning and Patrick seemed to have forgotten about it as they all stood in the parking lot, trying to release the stress by tasering each other. Patrick's arms were crossed as he looked on disapprovingly from a few feet away, as usual.

"Your turn, dude," Chris told him from behind the camera. Pete nervously chewed on the insides of his cheeks and held his arm out.

Before his brain even had time to react, he was screaming on automatic and holding his arm, laughing a little as he stumbled around the lot. "Wait, wait, no, do it again. Hold on." Pete stepped up to the taser again, this time waving Patrick over.

With a sigh, Patrick stood next to him. "What?"

Pete sheepishly held out his hand, and to his surprise, Patrick took it with only a slight hesitation. "Thanks."

"Gay," Chris said before the taser buzzed against Pete's jacket and shot electricity through his arm.

"Fuck!" he screamed, squeezing Patrick's hand so hard the a bone could have snapped if the taser wasn't suddenly smacked away.

Patrick pulled Pete toward the hotel as Chris called out, "Pussy! What a fucking pussy."

"Dude, what the hell are you doing?" Pete asked, yanking his arm away and grimacing at the lingering pain.

"You guys are fucking idiots; I don't want you doing stuff like that anymore, okay? It's annoying and it'll mess you up and just stop, alright?"

Normally, Pete would have gone off about how _You can't tell me what to do_ and _Why do I have to listen to you?_ , but this was Patrick. "Okay," he said quietly, rubbing his arm where the skin still stung.

A little surprised, Patrick just repeated, "Okay," and went up to his room. Pete didn't mean to follow, but he did. And he slept there because he couldn't bear the thought of sleeping alone.

The tension was miraculously forgotten. But don't think Pete forgot his promise from six months ago; no way.

Pete didn't understand why Patrick wasn't excited about this. They headed out in secret, only telling Chris that they were leaving, but not where. Patrick looked slightly annoyed as they pulled up in front of a bar.

"Are you kidding? A bar? There'll be, like, fifty year-olds in there."

"Patrick, come on. There'll be fifty year-olds _and_ a ton of girls your age," Pete reasoned. He didn't understand why Patrick didn't look excited.

Patrick sighed. "The only reason we're here is for you, isn't it?"

"What? No. I brought us here for you, okay?"

"But let's just think about this," Patrick said, turning in the seat to look at Pete. "We go in there, right? If I try to talk to anyone, all they're gonna' want is you. Why, when given the option, would anyone choose me over you?" Pete was so confused that he couldn't speak. "You're hot, Pete, you're hot and you're funny and you're likable and as soon as you walk into a room all eyes are on you. I'm just a background character."

Pete took Patrick's hand in his once again, trying to figure out where all this is coming from. "Patrick, that's not true."

"Oh? Then how do you—"

"Every time you talk to me or a girl or anyone else, I can guarantee you that you just brightened their whole day. You're probably the nicest person I have ever met, and you care about everyone, and you're funny and cute and every time you smile it's like the room bursts into flames because you're the sun, Patrick. You're bright and you can be the center of attention if you want and I'm nothing compared to you."

Patrick was smiling and his hand was trembling a little bit. "That last part wasn't true."

"It kind of was."

"It kind of wasn't." Patrick let go of Pete's hand to open the door. "You're not nothing, Pete. You're everything to me. Which is why I'll go in there, okay? For you."

Pete smiled as Patrick closed the door. What an awesome best friend.

⊱⊰⊱⊰

"Pete, you fucking asshole, I can't!"

Patrick was fuming. Pete was acting like talking to girls was nothing. But when you weren't particularly attracted to girls, it was pretty hard to flirt with one.

"Come on, yes you can!"

They were having this little argument in the men's bathroom, trying not to shout but not holding back too much, either.

"No, I can't!"

"Why not?"

"Because I'm fucking gay!"

Shit.

Patrick's jaw clamped up. His palms started sweating and his legs were on automatic as they walked him backwards and against the wall. He shut his eyes and imagined that he was back at the hotel, lying in bed and didn't just accidentally confess his sexuality to Pete Wentz.

There was a few minutes of absolute silence between them, because someone came into the room and did his business and washed his hands and then left, and Patrick could only imagine the look the guy was giving them. But when he finally left, Patrick felt Pete's shallow breaths against his face as he took Patrick's hand.

"Patrick." He said nothing. "Patrick, man, open your eyes. Please. Look at me."

So Patrick did. "What?" he asked quietly, eyes flicking between Pete's face and the stalls beside them.

"I don't care, okay? I don't care if you're gay or straight or something else. You're still you, right?" Patrick nodded. "And you're still a virgin, right?" Blushing a little, Patrick nodded sheepishly. "Then let's go find you a gay dude."

Patrick was still reluctant. He didn't want to lose his virginity to someone he barely knew. He had always secretly hoped it would be Pete, but how awkward would that be if he got rejected? Rejection wasn't a good look on Patrick.

"Do you have that, like, gaydar thing? Can you tell if—"

"No, unfortunately. I might have had a boyfriend by now if I did."

Pete frowned. "Well, I can't tell either."

"Whatever, Pete, it's fine. It doesn't matter. Let's just go back to the hotel."

"I promised I'd get you laid. I intend to get you laid."

Patrick bit his lip. "Listen, I don't want to lose my virginity to someone I don't know, okay? I just, I want someone to fuck me 'cause they like me."

Pete hummed. "So, you're a bottom, then?"

"What did you expect?" Patrick asked, trying to hold back a blush.

"Submissive or dominant?"

Patrick almost threw up. "Excuse me, what?"

"Just answer the question."

"Sub," he mumbled, face considerably red by now. "Duh."

Pete nodded. "Alright, time to go."

As they walked back to the car, Patrick replayed the conversation over and over and over again. Why was Pete asking those things? More importantly, how did he know what to ask?

The drive to the hotel was silent, but Pete's hand found Patrick's again. Patrick tried to pull away, but Pete shot him a don't-you-dare look. Pete looked reluctant to let go once they pulled into the parking lot, but they had to in order to leave the car, so Patrick yanked his hand away. He didn't want Pete to become one of those straight guys that tries to hit on gay men just for the fun of it.

Pete was silent throughout the whole elevator ride back up to the rooms, and he remained silent while he unlocked the door to his room. Patrick pulled out a key and headed for his own, but Pete grabbed his wrist. "No," was all that he said. His eyes were dark and Patrick was confused but then he was being pulled into Pete's room.

"Pete what the hell are you—"

Patrick was cut off when Pete grabbed him by the waist and pinned him against the wall, staring into his eyes with blown pupils. "I promised I'd get you laid, and that's what I intend to do."

Then Patrick was being pulled to the bed, and as Pete pushed him onto the mattress, Patrick asked, "Why are you doing this?"

"Well, I'm a dominant top, so it works out pretty well. You said you wanted to lose your virginity to someone who knows you, right?"

"I said someone who likes me. As in romantically."

Pete raised an eyebrow. "Do you want me to fuck you or not? Or are we going to waste time on technicalities?"

Patrick gulped. He really really _really_ wanted Pete to fuck him. A lot. "Okay."

Pete smiled and climbed onto the bed, going straight for the zipper of Patrick's jeans. Feeling a little self-conscious, Patrick grabbed Pete's wrist and stared up at him.

"It's fine. You'll be fine," he said, continuing to unzip Patrick's jeans. "Just look at me, okay?"

As Pete slid Patrick's jeans off, the younger man didn't take his eyes off his best friend. This was really happening. Oh, god, this was happening. He watched as Pete licked his lips when he pulled Patrick's boxers down, and he kept his eyes trained on Pete's face when he took Patrick into his mouth.

"Fuck," he gasped, tangling his hands in Pete's hair. Patrick prayed for thick walls, as his moaning was only getting louder.

But then five minutes later, as Pete was digging through the drawers for a condom and some lube and Patrick was out of breath on the bed, he knew the worst (best?) was yet to come. Pete climbed back onto the mattress and grinned at Patrick, pulling his shirt over his head.

Patrick's breath got caught in his throat. Pete was hot. And not like he thought before (your-face-is-nice-and-I-want-to-kiss-you hot), but better (can-you-never-put-a-shirt-on-again hot).

Then Pete's pants were off and Patrick wanted to kiss him even more than before. Pete was, well, he was. And Patrick was so in love with him that he could almost cry from the knowledge that Pete Wentz was about to fuck him. And now the condom was on and there was lube all over Pete's fingers and Patrick forgot where he was for a second because before he knew it there were fingers inside of him and he was moaning and arching his back and might have said something like 'fuck me senseless' but he couldn't understand himself.

And now Pete's arms were on either side of Patrick's head, and they were staring at each other as Pete was grinning and Patrick was trying to regain his composure. "Are you ready, baby?"

Patrick was acutely aware of the implications of a pet name but decided not to say anything about it. "Please," he breathed, watching Pete's pupils dilate.

And then Pete was pushing inside of him and they were breathing so heavily and it hurt at first but then it was _good good great oh fuck yes Pete keep doing it right there_ and everything felt so good all at once but so wrong at the same time. He shouldn't be letting his friend use him for sex, but this was by far the greatest thing to ever happen to him and god he was so in love.

"So hot, so tight and wet, baby. So good. You feel so good," Pete said as he kept on going and going and it was driving Patrick insane.

"I think I'm gonna' lose my mind, oh fuck, Pete, oh my _god_ ," Patrick moaned, and then Pete was touching him and it felt so good and soon he was coming all over Pete's hand.

Pete gasped as he thrusted into Patrick's orgasm, coming shortly after. Patrick didn't want him to leave, didn't want Pete to ever not be inside of him again, but Pete pulled out and laid on the bed beside him. Patrick felt hollow and sticky and it was gross but also a reminder that this actually happened.

They were both still out of breath when Pete said, "Never done a virgin before."

"Well I've never done anything before."

"How do you feel?"

Patrick closed his eyes and smiled. "Like I could be in heaven."

Pete sat up and Patrick did the same. "I think we should do that again. A lot."

"Seriously?" Patrick asked, eyes going wide. "But—"

And then Pete's lips were on his. It took Patrick a second to kiss back, but when he did, Pete was smiling against his lips and Patrick thought he was actually about to go insane. They were still naked and laying on the come-stained sheets but Patrick didn't feel so self-conscious anymore. He felt like he could do anything.

So then he pushed Pete onto his back and didn't bother with a condom this time. Pete's grin was wide and he kept kissing Patrick as the younger man lowered himself down onto Pete, and when they came Patrick could feel it inside of him and god it felt good.

Everything was just so good.

The conversation in the morning was interesting, to say the least. "So, uh, so you're bi, then?"

"Yeah."

"And, uh, this is gonna' be, like, a regular thing?"

"Yeah."

Patrick was silent for a little while as the sun broke through the blinds. "Have you ever, um, felt anything for a guy before?"

"What do you mean?" Pete asked, turning over to face Patrick.

"Just, like, besides sex. Have you ever been in love with a guy?"

Pete frowned. "No."

Patrick's heart sank and he hoped that it wasn't visible. Although Pete could be lying, when was the last time Pete lied to him? That was either never or Pete was just very good at keeping secrets for years. Which, Patrick supposed, was actually true. He didn't know about the bisexual thing until last night (in fact, he was pretty sure that Pete had said numerous times that he _didn't_ like dicks at all).

"Have you?"

Patrick ignored the _I'm gay, what do you think?_ on the tip of his tongue, instead opting for, "No."

The day went on and Pete made the guys do stupid stunts again and somebody got an ass tattoo and Patrick hated it. The only thing that kept Patrick going was the knowledge that he and Pete Wentz had sex last night, and even though they hadn't spoken the rest of the day, Patrick felt like he was more in love than he had ever been, but he also kind of hated Pete. He hated Pete for obsessing over this video so much that he didn't even try to see if there was anything more with Patrick, if there was anything more in this whole world than sex, if anything besides an orgasm mattered.

Patrick reached up to feel Pete's newly black hair (he had gotten sick of the red) from their place on the couch. "How is it so crusty?"

Laughing, Pete hit Patrick's hand away. "You use up all the conditioner; how am I supposed to avoid crustiness?"

There was a knock on the door and suddenly Pete was on the other side of the couch, calling out, "Come in!"

Chris burst into the room, face covered in dirt and ash or something, dragging a wooden baseball bat with a poorly painted rat on the side behind him. "Dude, you have to come see this."

Pete hopped up and excitedly followed him out the door, closing it without looking back. Patrick sighed and took a nap.

When he woke up he was furious.

⊱⊰⊱⊰

"Peter motherfucking Wentz!" Pete flinched as the familiar voice shouted across the parking lot. Chris gave him his own version of The Look—the one he gives when Patrick comes around. Shooting Chris an apologetic glance, Pete ran to the other side of the lot and met Patrick at the door of one of the buildings.

"Dude, what's going on?"

Patrick crossed his arms. "I don't know what game you think you're playing, but this is the dumbest shit I've ever had to deal with."

Raising an eyebrow, Pete blinked. "What?"

"You can't just fuck me and then think you can leave me!"

Pete's eyes went wide and he shushed Patrick as he dragged the younger boy into an alley between the buildings. "What the fuck is your problem?"

"What is _your_ problem? We're friends, Pete, aren't we? We're best friends, right? Then why is it that every time Chris comes calling you follow him around like a lovesick puppy? You act like he's the best thing since—"

"Why don't you shut up? You don't know what the fuck you're talking about."

"Bite me."

Pete didn't know why he did it. He just heard the words 'bite me' and figured _Why not?_ So he held Patrick's shoulders against the wall and kissed him on the neck, biting hard enough to leave a mark, and Patrick let out a noise of surprise. When Pete pulled away, Patrick's pupils were blown and his breaths were coming in short gasps for air.

"Kiss me." So Pete did.

It was much sweeter than last time, and as Patrick's soft lips parted a little, Pete realized this was their first _true_ kiss, not induced by horniness or post-sex heat, but simply a kiss because why the fuck not. And as Pete slipped his tongue between those soft, parted lips, he realized that he really fucking liked this.

"Hey 'Trick?" he asked as he stepped back.

Patrick kept his eyes closed and tipped his head back against the wall. "Yeah?"

"Remember when you asked me if I've ever felt anything for a guy before?"

"Yeah."

"I wanna' change my answer."

Patrick opened his eyes and grinned. "Mine was 'yes' since the day I met you." Pete kissed him again.

So this was love.

**Author's Note:**

> I hope that was cute enough to tide you all over. I've had this one on the back burner (no Killers reference intended) for a long time, and I wanted to bring it into the light! 
> 
> Drop a comment and a kudos if you enjoyed <3 I appreciate all of your feedback so much, you really have no idea.


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